Mind you, I’d never actually met anyone who didn’t like Giles. My cousin or, more accurately, my step-cousin, was as affable and easy going at the age of thirty-six as he had been when we were first thrust together as children, when my aunt had married his widowed father in 1993. From then onward, I had spent at least part of every one of my school holidays with Giles, in his large Cotswold country home, enjoying surroundings and a lifestyle which were in considerable contrast to those I experienced in my parents’ comfortable, but modest, suburban Oxford semi. Giles Tripp was, my adolescent self had quickly decided, one of the poshest and, more importantly, one of the kindest people I had ever met. And my opinion of him hadn’t changed at all in twenty-five years.

‘That’s no trouble at all, I’d love to walk Anthony,’ I said, my nose wrinkling involuntarily in anticipation of the stench. ‘When are you home?’

‘My flight lands at around eight thirty tomorrow evening. I have hand luggage only, so I should be home at nine thirty, or thereabouts.’

‘I’ll stay with him until then. I know he’s not a fan of being alone in the evenings.’

‘Thank you, Edie, you are kindness personified. I must go now because they’re calling my flight, but I shall text you all the details regarding collecting Anthony and – here’s an idea – why don’t you stay over tomorrow night and we can stride out for a walk and pub lunch on Sunday? My treat, to say thank you. I should love that, if you’re not too busy.’

‘That’s sounds great, but I do have quite a bit of work to get through over the weekend, Giles.’

‘Oh, come now,’ he said, jovially. ‘I bet you could see off most of that tomorrow afternoon if you bring your laptop. You know Anthony; he does nothing but sleep and break wind between ten a.m. and six p.m. It would be so wonderful to spend a little of Sunday with you, after what I daresay will be a rather sad Saturday for me,’ he added plaintively.

I hesitated for just a moment. ‘You’re right. I can work Saturday. I’ll pack my PJs and my laptop.’

‘Marvellous!’ he replied, his bounce returning. ‘Bye, Edie. See you tomorrow.’

‘Bye. Safe flight.’

I ended the call and relaxed back into my chair, enjoying the sense of contented calm which always followed any conversation with Giles.

‘I’ll pop your wine down here.’

I looked up, slightly startled to see Ruby back at my side and stooping low to place the glass on the table. ‘Thanks,’ I mumbled, disappointed to discover the glass to be such a large one and then experiencing an immediate sense of guilt at the realisation that, for whatever reason, all I wanted now was to go home.